


Cloudbusting

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batdad, Family Bonding, Gen, Guns, batfam, batfamily, inspired by kickass, no angst i swear, ok a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:20:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: Bruce takes the batkids out for some extra training.





	Cloudbusting

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to batwayneman, as always, for putting up with my silly ideas. <3

 “Everything’s going to be fine.”

The look Tim gave him was anything but reassured. The teen squirmed, biting his lip.

“Why don’t I believe you when you say that?”

“Empirical evidence.” Jason was kicked up against a nearby tree, watching the proceedings with amusement. Next to him, Dick rolled his eyes.

“What?” Jason asked, turning to Dick. “When has anything in this family ever gone _fine_?”

The field stretched out between them. The Wayne grounds were beautiful this time of year--surrounded by red and orange as the towering oaks and maples gave up their leaves. Beautiful and--most important of all--secluded.

“Cut it out,” Dick said to his brother, cross-legged by the roots of the tree. “You’re making Tim nervous.”

Damian let out a snort, perched at Dick’s knee. He was watching Tim eagerly, clearly waiting for something to go wrong.

Bruce raised a hand, quieting them.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m _not_.” Tim said, his eyes locked on Bruce’s hands. “It’s just--this wasn’t exactly how I expected to spend my afternoon, you know?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Bruce said, his finger on the trigger guard. “Brace yourself. This is going to hurt.”

Tim nodded, going silent. A moment passed between them--one last check in, making sure this was still okay.

Bruce aimed for the center of his chest, pulling back on the trigger twice.

Tim staggered backwards, his boots sliding in the dirt. The gunshots echoed through the range, bouncing off the nearby ravine.

Bruce lowered the gun, ignoring the small tremble in his right hand.

Tim was on his knees, a hand pressed to his chest. “Holy _shit_ ,” he wheezed, pulling at his t-shirt. “You--I--”

“Breathe.” Bruce said. “Get up. You can breathe through it.”

Tim made an exasperated face, stumbling to his feet. He was breathing heavily, shock clear in his eyes.

“Bullets travel at…”

“More than...seven hundred miles...an hour…” Tim finally managed to push his shirt out of the way, running a hand across the vest underneath. “And they really... _fucking_...hurt.”

“Language.” Dick said, hiding a smile behind his hand. “You got it easy, Timmy. Bruce shot me four times.”

“You thought it was a game.” Bruce said, flicking the safety back on with a pointed look. “You weren’t taking it seriously.”

“You promised me ice cream,” Dick said. He tilted his head back against the tree, grinning. “Of course I thought it was a game.”

“I didn’t get ice cream.” Jason said, arms crossed. He looked at Bruce. “What the fuck?”

“It’s an _educational_ experience,” Bruce stressed, ignoring Jason’s betrayed expression. “And I only had to shoot you once.”

“Yeah, cause I was smart enough to know getting shot was _bad_ already--”

Tim pried at the impacted bullets with a fingernail, tearing off one from the kevlar. He stared in amazement, examining it in the sunlight.

“Damian, trade places with Tim.” Bruce said, waving. “Tim, go drink some water.”

“I volunteer to shoot Damian.” Jason said, stepping forward. Dick smacked his leg. “I--oh, come on, Dick, you know you want to--”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, quieting the teen. Damian had strapped himself into the vest, bounding over to the edge of the range in record time. Tim muttered something, joining Dick in the shade.

“Ready?”

Damian nodded, clearly showing off. “Do your worst.”

Bruce raised the gun again, thumbing off the safety. He shot three times in quick succession, the pistol jumping in his hands.

Damian flew backwards, knocked completely off his feet. He hit the ground with a thud, sending a cloud of dirt into the air.

Bruce lowered the gun, waiting.

With a gasp, Damian sat up, a hand going to his chest. His face was bright red.

“Not so easy, is it?” Tim muttered into his water bottle, sullen. “ _Hmph_.”

“I am…” Damian caught his breath, chest heaving. “F- _Fine_.”

“Up,” Bruce reminded him. Damian practically leapt into the air, stumbling into a fighting stance. “Breathe. It only hurts for a moment.”

“It does not…” Damian attempted to conceal another gasp. “ _hurt_.”

Jason snorted.

“Try saying that when it cracks a rib.”

Dick held out a hand, waiting for Jason to grab it. He pulled himself to his feet.

“Right, because that’s not a direct result of you just inserting yourself into situations where you get shot. You know, _completely avoidable_ situations--”

Damian undid the vest, breathing more evenly now. He tossed it towards Tim, smirking.

“That was nothing.”

Tim didn’t move from his position against the tree. “You’ve got dirt all over your butt, Damian.”

The younger teen swatted at his pants, flushing. “Father shot me three times.”

“ _Wow,_ he must _really_ like you--”

Dick put a hand out before Damian could launch himself at Tim. Jason shook his head, looking out over the grounds. Bruce took the opportunity to slide the gun into his waistband, tuning out the squabbling.

His heart rate was still a little faster than normal--the result of excess adrenaline, still pounding through his veins. The cool metal of the pistol was pressed against the small of his back, a tangible reminder. He breathed in, counting silently.

“What are we doing now?” Dick asked. He’d successfully separated Damian and Tim, shoving Jason in between them as they trekked back to the Manor. The older teen looked less than pleased. “More training?”

Bruce watched as Damian’s face tightened ever so slightly, a mirrored expression on Tim’s. Jason merely looked resigned.

“...ice cream?”

There was an excited whoop. Damian took off running, Tim hot on his heels. Even Jason cracked a smile, socking Dick in the arm. The older teen was grinning at him, something unsaid passing between them.

“Come on,” Bruce said to Jason, gesturing with his head at the Manor. “The nearest place closes in an hour.”

“Don’t wanna be late,” Jason quipped. In the autumn sunset, he looked painfully young. “Do we?”

“No,” Bruce said, returning his smile. The wind picked up suddenly, ruffling their clothes. “I guess we don’t.”  
  


The End.  


**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought :)


End file.
